


Winter Star

by Gang_of_Shadow



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Fairy Tale Style, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romance, Winter Fable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:42:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28238643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gang_of_Shadow/pseuds/Gang_of_Shadow
Summary: The exiled king of the north must trek through a labyrinthine wood to liberate himself and his land from wretched curses and an usurping army.___Wrote this for Dimitri's birthday (it's late T_T) / #DimitriWeek2020.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth, dimileth - Relationship
Comments: 16
Kudos: 37





	Winter Star

**Author's Note:**

> Written for #DimitriWeek2020 / https://twitter.com/daily_dimitri (not based on any specific prompt)
> 
> Wanted to write something in the vein of a fable or fairy tale, that people would tell at a campfire in the dead of winter.  
> As such, details little more vague, there's some reliance on fairy tale tropes, etc. Hope it all still works.

There once was a brave and noble king who ruled the land of the north.

Though he was a large man - tall as a pine, and strong as the great wolves and bears that his land was known for - he had a gentle soul and a kind heart. His people loved him, for he was good and generous.

When war came to threaten his lands, he fought bravely alongside his countrymen, defended his people from harm and his land from invaders. His renown grew and grew until his feats of selflessness and bravery were known far and wide. Many traveled from lands near and far to pay their respects and offer him aid. For though his land was well cared for, the winters were harsh and cold, and still quite difficult for those less fortunate.

The king accepted all newcomers to his land and his court with open arms. An act he would soon come to regret. Eventually, strangers came to the land of the north who sought to bring the king low, to take advantage of his kindness, claim what was his, and make his people suffer. Jealousy and greed made them covet what he had, driving them to act in malice.

It began with a slow subtle curse.

Day by day the king found he could not focus. The things that once brought him joy now only raised his ire. His mood would turn on a dime. His mannerisms turned savage, beastly. He saw things that weren't there; spirits and ghosts of those long dead – calling for blood and justice. When winter came the plight of his people went unanswered; he was too distracted by the demons which only he could see.

The visions became so terrible, so persistent that one day he took a knife to his own eye and gauged it out in an effort to finally gain some peace. But it was all for naught. The spirits tormented him still.

And then his enemies struck. They took his kingdom while the king was weak, sowing havoc and destruction as they went. And so, he fled his home and his people in disgrace.

Ashamed of what he'd become and how he'd let his people down, but unable to see a path forward the king trudged through the blistering cold of winter to the mountains. He did not know what he sought there but his feet carried him through the icy winds and billowing snow drifts until his bones ached and his skin was as brittle as ice. The shades of the dead following his footprints in the snow.

He walked and walked, he knew not how for long, until one black and moonless night he stopped in his tracks. Looking to the sky his eyes fell upon the Winter Star; the brightest in the sky, brighter now that the moon did not distract from its light. He did not think the gods or spirits would answer a wretch like him, but that night he called to the star, asking only that he be given the strength to set right what he had made wrong.

As he stood there in the dark, praying to his star he heard footsteps in the snow behind him. Then he felt a warm hand upon his shoulder.

_"My poor, dear King of the North,"_ came a soft melodic voice, like bells carried on the wind. _"A dire curse has been set upon you."_

The king stood frozen in the snow. He wanted to turn and look upon the source of that beautiful voice - that warm hand that even now let loose a comforting heat that spread throughout his frigid frame. But he remained still. Perhaps this entity did not want to be seen by the likes of him.

_"I would gladly aid you my king, I wish to aid you, but alas. This curse can be broken by none but you, and the forces that bind you have bound me as well,"_ the voice continued sadly.

There was movement again and then a figure stepped before him, dressed in robes of midnight blue, hair dark as the night sky itself, and eyes a shimmering and ever-changing green like the aurora borealis that danced in the sky above them. She could be no mortal woman, he thought, for her robes left much of her skin bare to the freezing cold, yet her hand was as warm is if she'd been standing next to a hearth fire, and she didn't shiver at all though the wind blew the snow about them, turning it to daggers of ice in the trees. There was a slight shimmer to her skin, a glimmer like starlight that was almost mesmerising.

She was like a star, she was _the_ star - the brightest in the sky, the one that his people told stories about on nights such at these. When even the moon turned its back upon the land, the Winter Star shone bright, a beacon for the lost.

"Are you a dream?" he asked.

_"Not exactly. I am real enough."_ As if to prove it, she placed her warm hand against his cheek, and he thought he might die from the pleasure of it. So warm… _"I cannot help you directly, my King, but I can see you safe tonight, and I can give you what guidance I can. In order to break this curse, you must help break the curses upon four others. You will meet them along the path back to your kingdom. They will not be as they seem, not unlike yourself."_

"I am exactly what I appear to be, Lady. I am a wretched creature that has abandoned his people when they needed him most. I ran!" he spat, unable to hide his distaste for his own actions.

_"All men have darkness and fear inside them,"_ she said, her voice still gentle and soft, like a caress across his weary soul. _"Not all men have the strength to overcome their darkness, be they cursed or not. You have seen and done terrible things, lost much, but you are not lost yet. Your fate is yet to be decided."_

The Lady gave him a gentle smile as she placed her other hand upon his cheek to cup his face before guiding him down so she could place a soft kiss upon his brow. _"Rest now, King of the North. Sleep. When you wake know that you will find your path and that I shall be with you."_

At the word sleep, the king's eyes were already falling closed. Darkness embraced him like the arms of a lover. He no longer felt the wind or the cold. He felt nothing at all.

* * *

When the king woke again, he found himself in a cozy wood cabin, a fire crackling away in the hearth. There was the smell of something cooking, and the sound of someone moving about. As he raised himself out of the furs he'd been covered in he expected his body to be stiff and sore. Instead he felt as though he'd just woken in his own bed after a good night’s rest. It was as though his passage through the cold and unforgiving wilderness had never happened.

"The Lady took care of the worst of your wounds, the frostbite," came a voice that sounded familiar yet foreign at the same time. Then a woman stepped before him and handed him a mug of something hot and smelling of herbs. "I took care of the rest. Drink this."

He stared at the peculiar woman standing before him before taking the offered beverage for he'd never seen a woman quite like her; hair the pale green of the moss that hung from the trees of the deep forest, eyes wide and the same eerie green colour as her hair. When he eventually did take the drink she’d offered him, he found her hands cold as ice.

Her strange appearance aside, the thing that struck him the most was the peculiar air of tranquility about her. She did not emote, her expression so serene and void of any emotion it was almost haunting. "Who are you?"

"I am called Byleth," the woman replied simply. "I'm to help you, Your Majesty."

"I thought I was to aid you," the king replied, taking a sip of the steaming hot liquid. It tasted strangely of nothing, though he could still smell the scent of herbs, stronger now that he held the mug to his lips.

"Perhaps you will," she spoke cryptically.

The king did not ask any further questions. He did not think this strange woman would give him any answers.

She did feed him, handing him enough dried meat and fried bread to fill his belly. While he ate, she mended his battered and worn cloak with deft hands and quick fingers. Though they sat in silence while she worked and he ate, and though she was a very odd woman, the king felt calm in her presence - for the first time in a long time.

When he'd finished his food and drink, she began packing a sack with provisions before pulling on her own fur-lined coat and cloak, and dousing the fire.

He wondered if she could feel the cold at all with how icy her hands had been. Would the cold harm her?

"We should go, my king, if you are ready. There is only so much time," she said, pulling him back to the present.

With a nod he got to his feet, surprised at how rejuvenated he felt. Until this day his body had felt like a wreck; worn down and barely functioning. Today he almost felt like his old self…

"Are you to be my guide, my Lady?" he asked tentatively.

"Yes, but I am no Lady. I am just Byleth." Her tone was even, smooth, and almost cold. Her eyes watched him with stark clarity, unblinking and patient.

He did not keep her waiting, taking his mended cloak and the pack she had prepared for him and then following him out the door. It was not as cold this day, and the winter winds had calmed, but unbroken snow covered the ground before them. He could see no clear path leading from the little cottage through the woods.

Byleth stepped out, breaking the pristine surface of the snow with confidence and started walking. The king followed in silence, wondering how this strange woman came to be living out here in the middle of nowhere, how she had found him and why the Lady she spoke of had set them on this path together.

On they walked in a peaceful sort of silence. It was calming for a time, but the king found his thoughts lingering on the green-haired woman that now led him through the woods. But when ever he asked her about herself, what ailed her, she simply said she could not say.

And yet, despite her cryptic responses and placid façade, the king felt at ease around this the strange woman of the woods - more at ease than he'd felt since before he'd exiled himself to the wilderness. She guided them with calm confidence, and when their food ran low, she hunted expertly for more without a second thought.

He wondered often who she was, where she'd learned to hunt with such skill, how had she come to be cursed as he was. But answers would not be forthcoming… not yet.

* * *

Days had passed before they came across another traveler in the woods. The king recognized him instantly by his armor, though it was as worn and battered as his was. His black hair was falling loose about his face where it was tied back. He looked haggard, beaten and perhaps slightly mad.

The king and the green-haired woman approached slowly as the knight before them swung his sword about himself wildly, growling at nothing, his amber eyes wild and unfocused.

"Peace, sir knight. We mean you no harm," the king called out and the man froze, eyes going wide and a snarl splitting his face.

" _YOU_ ," he spat as he turned in their direction. His eyes scanned the area before him but did not focus on either the king or Byleth. "Now the boar king decides to make himself known? After all this time? After abandoning your people to suffer and die at the hands of our enemies?"

Though he was still several feet away he swung his sword before him viciously. Before the king could take a step towards him, Byleth caught his arm. "He is blind, my lord."

"What happened?" the king asked.

"What does it matter? My brothers are dead, our people are at the mercy of those who came to conquer us, and I can no longer even fight my enemies. I would kill you if I could. You have taken everything…" The knight let his sword arm fall, suddenly looking defeated.

Byleth only stared at the king in silence, waiting for him to act. This was his trial, after all. Only his actions would carry them forward.

"If you seek my blood in payment for the blood of those you've lost then you have it, good knight," the king said, advancing forward to kneel before the knight.

"I'm blind you fool. The handiwork of those whom you let consume our lands," the knight muttered, his sword still hanging limply in his hand.

"I know you, Felix Fraldarius, knight of the realm. You are the finest swordsman my court has known in a century. If you wish you strike me then do it; blood for blood. It is what you are owed, and I have no other way to make up for what was lost to you. I know the extent of your skill. Your blade will be true, blind or not." The king did not look up as he spoke. He simply awaited upon whatever fate his former knight decided to bestow upon him.

He sensed when the knight had raised his sword. The entire forest seemed to become unnaturally quiet in anticipation. It felt like an eternity of silence while the three of them stood there, frozen.

He did not realize the knight had moved until he felt the cold bite of steel against the nape of his neck. Then the sword came away and he was still alive, still breathing. When he looked up the knight was stumbling backwards, eyes blinking rapidly. The king could only watch him confused and concerned.

Byleth stepped forward, a crude bandage in hand. "You're bleeding, my king."

"I don’t understand?" the king muttered as she treated his wound.

"The first curse is lifted," she replied simply. "You both had to make the right choice. Your knight has regained his sight. What he does now with it is up to him."

Finally, the knight looked upon them. For a moment he looked like he was about to strike, but eventually he relaxed, letting his sword finally fall to the snow-covered ground. "What now then?" the knight muttered.

"You may come with us, or you may take your own path. I seek to set things right," the king offered. "I do not know if I can succeed but I must try."

When the knight simply nodded silently, the king looked from him to Byleth and was surprised to find a smile drawing up the corners of her mouth. It was so faint he almost thought perhaps it wasn’t there at all, that he’d imagined it. "Shall we move on, Your Highness?" she asked, as her face settled back into its customary placid and unreadable expression.

Getting back to his feet, the king nodded. The knight picked up his sword and followed silently behind them as they went on in search of more of the cursed.

* * *

A few days later they found two more lost souls, caught in these strange woods. Two flame-haired men were bound to a large boulder in a small clearing. They looked identical - the same clothing, the same hair, the same angry scar cutting through the features of their face from their forehead, through their brow and over their nose.

"Help me!" cried the one on the left.

"Help _us_ ," call the one on the right. "We've been chained to this rock for days."

"I know him," the knight said. "He's Miklan, the heir Margrave Gautier, or he was until he betrayed the north to the invaders. He is not a twin as far as I know."

"We're not twins," the one on the right confirmed. "I was sent to hunt my brother down, but we were caught in a storm just as I came upon him. When we woke, we were chained to the stone and I was glamoured to look like him."

"He lies to save his own skin!" spat the man on the left.

"I'd prefer if you saved both of us, but I will understand if you cannot let a traitor like my brother go. What he's done is unforgivable…" the man on the right spoke calmly, but his eyes were pleading.

As the king drew his lance, Byleth stepped forward. "Be careful, my king."

"Leaving a traitor like Miklan alive would be folly," the knight said, eyeing both scarred men with scrutiny.

"Your knight is correct. Miklan had done terrible things even before the invaders came. I should have put an end to it sooner, but he is my brother and I could not bring myself kill him. Perhaps this punishment is fitting for the both of us." The man on the right spoke ruefully, watching the man next to him struggle against his bonds.

"Speak for yourself, traitor!"

The king could feel his own ire rising as he looked upon the men before him. He knew what his people had suffered due to his own negligence. To think one of his own would betray their own country and people out of greed. He knew it was not unheard of, but it was still despicable.

"Remember what you came here to do, why you now walk this path," came the soft voice of his green-haired companion, and suddenly the rage that had flared within him had been doused. He still felt it, the outrage, but it was no longer clouding his vision.

The king looked to the men before him, the one on the left half made with panic, and the one on the right calm but defeated. "What would you have us do then?" he asked the one on the left first.

"Free me! My brother seeks to trick you into releasing him so that he may go back to the invaders and receive his reward for his betrayal. Free me and I will help you, my king," he pleaded.

The king then turned to the man on the right who regarded him calmly, eyeing the king's two companions before he spoke. "You know neither me nor my brother, I think, so all you have are our testaments now," he began. "All I can say is there are reasons my brother is the way he is. Fate dealt him a cruel hand and he has suffered much for it. If you must execute a traitor today, then let that traitor be me. I was not able to bring my brother to justice, and so here we are. I am as guilty of treason as he is."

The king looked from one brother to the next a moment longer before bringing his lance down upon the chain. The man on the right stood up, freed from his shackles, but he no longer looked like the man to the left. He had the same fiery red hair, but he was younger, his features softer and there was no scar cutting across his face.

"I wish you had made a different choice, but I thank you regardless," he said looking back at his brother who snarled and thrashed on the ground where he was still bound to the boulder.

"If fate sees fit to give your brother a second chance then so be it. I will not end his life today, but neither will a let loose a traitor in my lands. The north has seen enough grief of late." The king lowered his lance and found himself looking to Byleth, for what he did not know. That faint ghost of a smile was playing across her lips once more and he felt himself becoming more at ease.

"The second curse is lifted, my king," she said softly, as though the words were truly meant just for him.

Though he felt a great weight lifted from his shoulders; a sense of hope he had not thought possible for a long time, he still had so many questions. He wanted to ask his green-haired guide why the curse upon her had not been lifted, what must be done so that she may be liberated just as they had liberated the two men they had found in the woods.

  
Before he could speak the man he had just freed asked, "What will you have of me, King of the North? I am at your service as payment for what you have done for me today."

"Come with us if you like, or return to the Margravate. You owe me nothing."

"You seek to take back the north?"

"I do."

"Then I will aid you, in whatever way I can. If we ever get out of this blasted cursed forest, I will send word to my father for aid." Finally, the flame-haired young man smiled warmly at them, extending his hand. "I am Sylvain Gautier."

"Thank you, Sylvain."

* * *

Their final encounter came to them along with a blistering winter storm. Wind swept the snow about the travelers, nearly blinding their path. Still Byleth led them on as though the wind and the cold did not touch her, did not obscure the unseen path before her.

They found her kneeling in the snow, hands over her ears, eyes clenched shut, muttering to herself. The king had to shout to be heard over the call of the wind and the barrier of her hands. When the sword maiden eventually did look up her eyes drew wide in fear.

"More spirits to taunt me," she cried.

"We are no spirits, Lady. Simply travelers who wish to help you if we can," the king said gently.

"No one can help me. My people are starving, many dead - most of them dead… My father was too weak to act himself, and I - I let it happen and now their spirits haunt me." The maiden wailed, covering her ears once more as her eyes darted around them, catching on entities that none of them could see.

None but the king. For he too was haunted by his own spirits to that day.

As if summoned by the sword maiden’s cries, he saw his own ghosts and spirits manifest around them, the ones that had tormented him into cutting out his own eye, into fleeing his home. They materialized before him and rose up in a chorus of agonizing wails and keening moans. The king staggered as though the sound of the dead’s voices had struck him, winding him.

The maiden noticed this; recognized suffering similar to her own. "You see them?"

"I see my own," the king confessed. "I too have failed my people terribly. Many have suffered, and many more will suffer if I do not make right what I have let fall to ruin."

"I cannot face them," she gasped. "I let them all down."

"Many still suffer, Lady. Many more will suffer yet if the invaders are allowed to remain unchallenged." As he spoke his voice shook. The eyes of the dead were upon him, cold and scrutinising. He turned to his companions; Felix who had spared his life, Sylvain who offered is own in order to give his brother a second chance, Byleth who had been his stalwart guide through the strange cold maze of cursed woodland. Her expression, as usual was unreadable now.

"I tried to blind myself to them, as you can see," he continued, gesturing to his missing eye. "But it will do no good. Just as running will do no good. Whether it is a curse or guilt or some combination of the two, I fear these faces will follow us until our dying day, my Lady. But that doesn’t mean we cannot live, that we cannot fight. If we give up now, then their suffering will have been for nothing."

Some of the fear seemed to leave her but it was replaced with skepticism. "I am just supposed to move on then?"

"No. I know well enough it is not as simple as that. But what is hiding here in the woods going to accomplish for you or for anyone?"

She regarded him in silence, then his companions, then the king once more before closing her eyes as if in meditation. When she opened them again she got to her feet. She still looked weary, drained, but determined. The wind calmed as she stood, the snow that had just been billowing about them no longer buffeting them relentlessly.

She tied her short-cropped hair back from where the wind had loosened it to whip in her face and nodded to the king and his companions. "I recognise you, King of the North. You have my sword until we bring justice to those who have taken our home and our loved ones from us. And then I must see to my people."

"That is more than I deserve, good Lady."

"I am Ingrid Galatea, and I thank you for – for helping me to see my path once more."

"You are most welcome," the king said with relief.

While they had stopped to help Ingrid, the sun had begun to set, casting the snow-covered landscape in orange light. His companions suggested they camp for the night. Though the storm had calmed, the snow continued to fall and traveling any further would be difficult.

As they were preparing the fire the king looked to Byleth, waiting for her customary confirmation that yet another curse had been lifted. Instead he saw a surprising yet welcome sight.

She was smiling. Not the slight upturning of her lips, the ghost of an expression he'd come to expect, but a true smile, one that reached her eyes and dimpled her cheeks. It sent a bolt of heat through him, warming him inside and out. "You're nearly there, my king," she said ardently.

"But what of you? Is there nothing I can do to help you? I would not have made it to this point if not for your help and guidance." The king could not help feeling like he was letting her down; the one who had been with him the longest but could not say what ailed her.

"You have done more than you know and more than I can say. I wish - I wish I _could_ say more, Your Majesty." Her smile faltered, just a little then and the king reached for her hands in desperation, willing her to tell him more. He found them warmer than he remembered. They were still cool, but they were not icy cold as they had been when he woke in her cabin.

"Why does it sound like you are leaving me?" he asked.

"I am not. But I must leave you eventually," she replied softly.

"Must you?"

"I'm afraid so. But we may meet again. If you wish it."

"I see," he answered hesitantly, unsure of what to make of her vague responses. "Then let us not delay. There is still much to be done."

* * *

Byleth led them through the woods for five more days. Each step carrying them forward with a mixture of excitement and dread. He longed to return to his home and his people, but he dreaded the day when Byleth would leave him. He wasn't sure when it had happened. Perhaps it had not been one singular moment or several since the day he'd met her, drawing him closer to her, connecting them now beyond their strange circumstance.

He did not know what to call it. He knew only that when this was over, he wanted to see her again.

Their final night in the forest was another moonless night. While the others slept the king lay awake, wondering if the Lady would return to him with more guidance.

He knew change would come with the break of day and it made him restless. Unable to sleep he got up and found Byleth was also awake, staring into the flames of their bonfire. For some reason in the dark of the moonless night she looked different. Her eyes seemed to glow brighter in the light of the fire, and her hair and skin occasionally seemed to shimmer, like the light of the stars.

"You should sleep, my king," she said as he moved to sit with her by the fire. "You'll need your strength for what is to come."

"I thought perhaps the Lady would return. I've wondered often why she came to me that night, to such a useless wretch."

"Even then you were not quite as you say. You have proven yourself kind and selfless… brave. She knew that you possessed these traits and had faith that if given the opportunity they would shine through." Byleth graced him with another smile, this time tinged with sadness.

"You seem to know her thoughts rather intimately."

"We share a similar opinion of you."

Silence fell, and the king did not know what to say, only that he wanted this moment to last longer than it could. "Will you be alright? Whenever you leave?"

"I think so."

"But your curse -"

"It is lifted, good king."

"But it means you must leave."

"Just so, Your Majesty."

"Call me Dimitri, please."

And then that lovely smile returned to her lips, the one that sent trills of heat throughout his whole body and made his heart pump madly in his chest. "As you wish, Dimitri."

Reaching out he took her hands once more and found them warm, radiating heat out from her palm into his. They did not speak any more that night, simply sitting in peaceful silence as they watched the stars above flicker and wink amongst the blanket of night.

The king did not know when he'd fallen asleep, but when he woke Byleth was gone, and only the three companions he'd found in the woods remained. They did not seem surprised by her sudden departure, but they were saddened. She had been diligent and kind in caring for all of them as they trekked through that strange forest, and her presence was greatly missed.

Her departure left all four of them feeling as though something had been left unfinished; a tale without an ending.

Still they pressed on. Now that they were out of the wood, the journey back to the king's capital, his home was shorter than they expected. As promised Sylvain sent word to his father, and Felix to his knights. Ingrid sent word to her own people, and though they had little to give they arrived along with the others to aid their king in taking back their homeland.

Even with their forces amassed they were at a disadvantage. Their enemy had numbers and dark magics in their favour. Despite all this his people still held hope. Having their king and several of their best warriors returned to them when all had seemed lost did much to bolster their spirits. Tales of their journey through the woods, how they overcame the curses that had been inflicted upon them, how the Lady of the Winter Star herself was said to have aided them - they were already on their way to becoming the stuff of legends.

Still, the king wondered if it would be enough…

On a particularly cold night, on the eve of their battle to take back the capital the king looked up to the night sky, smattered with stars and flooded with the shimmering and every shifting light of the aurora borealis and he let his heart call to the Winter Star. He didn't know what he wanted of her, for she had already given him so much more than he thought he deserved, more than he was worthy of.

In the end all he asked for was her blessing, though a part of him knew he already had it. And he thanked her for what she'd done for him and his people already. He prayed that wherever she was she was happy and at peace.

* * *

The battle for the city was a bloody one, but every last man and woman of the north fought with a determination, a ferocity that could not be matched by any of the enemy soldiers. They had everything to lose and a renewed faith in their king and each other.

The king stalked through the city, channeling the beast he had become to strike down the invaders, cutting a path to his goal.

His trek through the chaos of the city eventually brought him through the castle gates, to the throne room, where a tall wraith like figure stood before him. A miasma of black magic swirled around him, so thick in the frigid air that the king nearly gagged.

The man, if he could be called a man, cackled as the king approached hurling bolts of angry black energy at him. The king braced himself, knowing that his brute strength was no match for a magician as skilled and powerful as this. But when he expected the malevolent energies to strike him, they instead crashed against a wall of green-blue light - tendrils of which coiled before him forming a pattern like a star wrapped in flames.

In that moment he knew his star was with him still, and so he surged forwards, lance in hand. He could feel an intense well of energy pooling within him, brimming up through his entire being and coursing through his arm into his lance. His opponent just barely brought his own weapon up in time to block the blow, but he was staggered. Instantly winded.

The king didn't hesitate at all before striking again, and again. Each blow knocking his foe further and further back, breaking his strength and his will. The magician creature tried to fling more bolts of black magic at him but all of them crashed ineffectually against the shield of light that enshrouded the king.

The king swung his lance around in one final blow, shattering the magician's blade and cutting through him is if he were no more substantial than a snow drift. A ripple of energy whipped out in a shockwave from the vile creature's corpse, but in the aftermath, it was as though a shroud had been lifted from the land itself.

As the king stood in the now empty throne room, he heard the cheers of his comrades erupt from outside. They were victorious and he was home.

* * *

It took time, as all things do, before it could be said that the kingdom of the north had returned to normal. And some things would never truly be as they once were.

For the knight and master swordsman, it was difficult to trust again. Relying on others was a difficulty and more often than not he found he preferred solitude to companionship. However, when his king and his friends had need of him, he was always there. Even if he came across a stranger in need, he would never turn them away, for he had seen what happened when good men turned their back on those in need and he vowed to himself never to be guilty of such negligence.

The heir of Gautier returned to the Margravate. His brother was never seen or heard from again, and this left the young heir feeling a mixture of relief and dismay. Though his father still lived, he quickly took over the duties of Margrave, making changes to avoid the pitfalls that had led to his brother's folly in the first place. He governed his people justly and became one of the king’s most trusted vassals.

When Ingrid returned to her lands, she found it in much the same state as she had left it. But her people had seen how she'd fought for them and their king; how she'd thrown herself into battle, defended the common folk and helped see the king and the north to victory. As thanks for her aid, the king sent food and supplies to her people, as well as experts in agriculture to could help her see to it that her people would not suffer another winter such as this without their granaries full. She still had days when restless spirits haunted her steps, but she did not turn from them now. She took it as her duty to remember them and ensure that no such tragedy fell upon those in her care again.

As for the king, his days were spent sorting through the mess the invaders had wrought during their time in power. There was much to rebuild and set right, much to undo. While most were glad to have their king back, there were some who still looked upon his abandonment of the throne with disdain, and his return with skepticism. But the king had learned patience during his time with Byleth and the others in the forest – patience and fortitude.

He vowed to do everything he had to in order to earn back the trust of his people. And day by day, little by little, he did just that. Be it through acts of bravery and courage, or simple things like listening calmly an astutely to the day-to-day grievances of the common folk. He did what he could himself, and when he could not, he now had loyal friends and comrades to help him to restore his home and his kingdom to the prospering land it once was.

A year went by since his victory over the invaders. Not a day passed when he didn't think of his strange green-haired guide from the woods. She had said they may meet again, and yet he'd neither seen nor heard from her in all that time…

And then, on a moonless night, when his heart was aching more than it normally did, he looked to the Winter Star shining brighter than all others, and he wished with his whole heart that she would return to him.

"I was beginning to think you had changed your mind, King of the North," came a soft voice, like the tinkling of bells from behind him.

When the king turned, he found a woman with moss-green hair, eyes that shone like an aurora, and a dress that seemed to be made of the night sky itself. She was Byleth. But she was also the Lady of the Winter Star.

He had so many questions, but instead all he could say was, "You said we would meet again."

"Indeed, I did. I said if you wished it, then it would be so." The smile she gave him was soft, warm, but a little sad. "I did not hear your wish until this night."

"It was you all the time. It was you that night and then afterwards…"

"The ones that came for you came for me also. They knew I watched over the lands of the north and did not want to risk their plans by having me interfere. They were fond of their curses as you know." She paused looking up to the night sky before she continued. "I could not be myself but for nights such as this, when the moon is dark. And even then, my power was limited. I could not reveal the nature of the curse, and I could do nothing to break it myself. I was as you saw me. Just an ordinary girl, but cold, unfeeling."

She reached out to him, taking his hand in hers and the comforting warmth he remembered seeped into his skin, spreading through his body to fight of the chill of the cold winter night. "They encased my heart in ice. I could not return to myself unless that ice were to thaw. Unless I felt something so strong it could break through the cold…"

"You felt - You mean to say…" The king could not believe what he was hearing, what his heart was telling him. Then his Winter Star raised his hand up and pressed it to her cheek, closing her eyes with delight. "But you are -"

"I'm just a girl, Dimitri. The same girl who walked through the forest with you. I have spent enough time watching the earth from above." She squeezed his hand as she brought it down and looked him directly in the eye. "All stars fall eventually, but I should like to choose where I land."

The king did not need any further convincing. He pulled his star into his arms, wrapping her in his cloak as he leaned in to press a kiss to her lips. He did not know what sort of future they had in store for themselves; a king and a fallen star. But he did know that he would savour every moment they had together from that night and all the nights that would follow.

**Author's Note:**

> Epilogue~  
> And they all lived happily ever after. :)
> 
> *Note  
> Left the "bad guy" kinda vague, because I didn't feel like any one of the ones from FE3H fit that generic fairy tale villain mold. It could be Hubert, Arundel, Solon, or someone kind of in that vein - insert whoever you like. :P


End file.
